


Speak For You

by GoofyGodTier (johnfightmelaurens)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Foster Care, M/M, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Stuttering, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnfightmelaurens/pseuds/GoofyGodTier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro and Dave's parents die and they end up in the foster care system where Dave's stuttering problem turns him into a selective mute when their overly religious foster parents come into the mix. John and his dad move to Texas and in kindergarten, the two boys meet, starting a life long friendship.</p><p>(Tags will change or be added as is necessary.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

==>

Your name is Dirk Strider and you are arguably the best baby sitter out there. Your three year old brother is the only kid you’ve ever watched and so, maybe you’re biased.

You love your little brother though sometimes he’s a drag. He’s the reason you haven’t had much time to work on your robot stuff recently, but you suppose it’s okay. You’re going to be his big brother your entire life. It’s your job to protect him.

You’re heating up some mac and cheese when you feel little hands patting at your leg. You look down at your little brother.

“What’s up , little dude?”

“B-Bro, I’m h-hungry,” he says very matter of factly, patting at your leg a little harder. He stutters a little, but it’s not a sign of apprehension. Just something he does.

“I’m on it, kiddo. Just wait a few minutes and you’ll be shoving your face with the delectable creamy cheese of this processed crap.”

You glance at the clock. It’s six. Your parents have been out since five; it’s Valentine’s Day so you’re not surprised. Dave’s hitting your leg harder than before, whining about food. In a month you’ll be eighteen and it stuns you how young Dave is in comparison. There’s fifteen years between you two.

With a slight huff, you pick him up so he’s now resting on your hip trying to knock your shades into the mac and cheese you’re preparing. You roll your eyes and let him try. He probably won’t succeed.

Soon you’re setting him down and patting at his light blonde hair. He whines. 

“U-Up!” he demands. You shake your head and laugh softly.

“Dinner’s ready, kiddo. You hungry?”

“Y-Yeah!”

You serve him some of the cheese covered noodles on the last clean plate, a princess one ironically enough, and set it at the table. Dave’s trying to climb into his chair and failing so you help him up and into the booster seat that’s there for his three year old frame. He immediately digs in and starts making a mess.

“Little dude, you forget how to use a fork?”

Dave looks at you with wide eyes and you smirk. You hand him a fork as you use a washcloth to clean up the mess. He starts using the fork, happily shoving the cheesed up noodles into his pie hole.

After you eat your own plate of carbs and get dinner cleaned up, you play Monopoly: Dave Edition. It’s the same as normal Monopoly except for the fact that Dave makes up all the rules and doesn’t actually know how to play Monopoly, which makes sense seeing as he’s three and you’re almost eighteen and you’re still not one hundred percent sure how to play. The rules change from game to game, sometimes even halfway through, but one thing is always the same: Dave wins. You don’t mind though because by the end of the third game, Dave’s dozing off. It’s an easy transition to get him into bed and he’s out like a light.

You stay up for a while watching your old DVR recordings of things like How It’s Made and Battlebots (wouldn’t it be cool to make your own robot that would totally annihilate all the competition?) until about three a.m. When it inches up to four, you’re getting worried. Your parents said they’d be home no later than midnight. You glance at your little brother’s bedroom door while you worry. 

You don’t sleep.

When Dave wakes up, you feed him and set him in front of the TV to watch Nick Jr while you call your parents’ phones, but they go straight to voicemail. You call the restaurant and get a positive “They left at eight.”

Jesus christ you’re fucking terrified.

You don’t know what else to do other than call the police so you just take care of Dave throughout the day, watching the door for them to come home. You’re just waiting and waiting and feeding Dave and waiting.

It’s when there’s a knock on the door of the apartment at around seven that you stop waiting. You make sure Dave’s preoccupied by Jeopardy before you answer the door and see two uniformed police officers. One appears to be a woman.

“Is this the Strider household?” the man with a stereotypical mustache asks gruffly and you nod. 

“Yeah, my parents aren’t able to come to the door right now,” you tell them. Your parents haven’t been missing for 48 hours, so there’s no reason to tell them they’re not here.

The woman shakes her head a little, smiling though. “That is the correct thing to say when your parents aren’t home,” she says. How does she know? Her tone suggests that she’s a little proud of you, but also sad; sorry for you.

You stare at her blankly before looking back at her partner, the male police officer. “I’m Officer Baker and this is my partner, Officer Blake,” he tells you with a nod to his partner.

“Well that’s peachy. Why are you at our house?” you ask, a little annoyed that they know something you don’t; that they’re dancing around the topic at hand.

Officer Baker looks to his partner and gives her a nod.

“Your parents were hit by a drunk driver last night,” she says quietly. “They didn’t make it.”

You stare at her incredulously. Mom... Dad... Dead? No! What’s going to happen to you? To Dave? He’s three. Is he going into a foster home? Are you? You can’t think of any distant family members that could pass you around. What’s going to happen to your future...?

It’s February 15th, 1999. You’re going to turn eighteen in less than a month. You’re not going to college now, that’s for sure. You weren’t sure in the first place, but now you’re positive. You have to drop out of school the second you turn eighteen if not sooner. You’ll be in a foster home, hopefully with Dave, for that month until you’re eighteen. Then, you’re out of there. You’re going to get out, get a job and a shitty apartment. You’ll work your ass off until you’re at a point you’re making enough to get yourself a decent apartment, put money aside for Dave and his future that you wouldn’t dare fuck up, and, most importantly, to get Dave back.

You refuse to leave Dave with a foster home for very long. Stories of abuse and molestation start swimming around in your head. Glancing into what will soon no longer be your apartment, your home, you see Dave getting bored with the TV.

“So, Dave and I are going to get dumped in a foster home, right?” you ask and when she nods, your fears are confirmed. 

“Are we going to a home now?” you ask and they nod. You nod back and go over to Dave, picking him up.

“Hey, little dude. We’re going to go on a trip, alright? A totally wicked cool trip, but before we go, we need to get packed. What do you want to bring with you?” you ask him and he starts naming off toys and gadgets, most of which weren’t bought that way because you either made them or refurbished them into something Dave friendly. You fill an old backpack of yours with his toys and clothing, packing as much stuff into it as you can. Dave insists on carrying a stuffed horse you’d gotten from a previous boyfriend who had won it for you at a fair. You had intended on getting rid of it when you two broke up, but at the time, Dave had seen it and wanted the damn thing so you let him have it. 

You set Dave on the couch and tell him to wait there so you can go get your stuff together for the trip and he nods, rubbing at the horse’s yarn mane.

You head into your room and put your tools away in the toolbox as quickly as you can, carefully wrapping your current prototype in a couple of shirts before putting it into the backpack followed by lots of clothes and other various inventions you’ve made over the years. This is all you really need, right? You grab your laptop and slide it into the back of the bag before coming out into the living room where Dave is making up a story to the police officers about the horse he’s holding. They seem to have noticed the sunglasses he’s wearing and are obviously curious about them.

You head over to where Dave is starting to make the horse gallop. “A-And then M-Maple H-Hoof turns int-to a sp-space horse and z-zooms to all the p-planets!”

“That’s really awesome, Dave. Ready to go yet?” you ask and the officers stand up straight as you take Dave into your arms after he nods. 

“Well, let’s get going then,” you say and follow the police officers out of the house and into their police car. You’re not sure where you’re going, but at least you’ve got Dave with you so you can protect him.

You’re in the car for a while and Dave is soon just asleep in your arms. Officer Blake looks back at the two of you and you give her a little shrug. 

“Why the sunglasses?” Officer Baker eventually asks you. “It’s dark out and you’re still wearing them.”

“My eyes, and Dave’s, aren’t... Average. I had people call me a demon when I was younger because they were so weird and Dave’s are worse. Mine are just orange, his are red.”

The officers nod a little in understanding. “Kids can be cruel,” Officer Baker murmurs.

You nod a little in agreement and run your fingers through your brother’s hair. 

It sort of hits you, like for real, that your parents are dead. That they’re gone and you and Dave are alone now. That your brother probably won’t remember them. He’ll remember growing up in a foster home and then being raised by his older brother. He’ll remember that he isn’t like normal kids with normal parents. He’ll remember that he had to wear sunglasses. He’ll remember that he’s different.

He won’t have a normal childhood and that scares you.

You sit with Dave in your arms in the back of the police cruiser for a while, even when they eventually park and say they’re at the station where you’ll be taken by a social worker to a home, you stay in the car with Dave until the social worker comes to get you two. It’s late and Dave’s lucky he’s asleep because you’re exhausted. 

Not to mention that he’d see you crying. You don’t want him to see that.

Eventually you two end up at the foster home that you’ll be with for a while. They already have two girls and two boys that are there, all around the ages of ten to thirteen. The mother seems nice enough and she leads you to a bedroom you and Dave can share and you immediately tuck him into bed. The other kids are all asleep and you talk with the mom and social worker briefly before climbing into your own bed and going to sleep.

In the morning you get Dave out of bed and you take him downstairs (it’s a nice two story home) and into the kitchen. The mother that you met last night is there feeding the other kids. They have school and she already looks like she’s annoyed. The father is soon taking the kids to school while you stand awkwardly in the corner with Dave in your arms. You’re going to be switching schools and it’s not the quickest thing in the world to do so you’re kind of out of school for a few days so you can make sure Dave is adjusting to this new home.

“B-Bro, I-I’m hungry,” he starts whining at you and you nod. 

“Let’s see about getting you something to eat, big guy,” you tell him and walk over to where the mother is cleaning up. 

“Is there any breakfast for us or should I make something myself?” you ask, trying to be as nice as possible to her. You don’t want to piss her off and grown ups in the morning aren’t always the peachiest.

She looks at you and Dave and sighs slightly. “I’ll get you two some food, just give me a second and take off those sunglasses. You’re indoors for christ’s sake.”

You nod and take Dave to the table. There’s a booster seat in the corner and you set it up so Dave can sit at the table. You do take off your and Dave’s shades for her, though you’re kind of worried about how she’ll react. Texas tends to be a pretty conservative place, something you learned the hard way at school when you were called a demon eyed freak.

She brings over some eggs and sets them in front of the two of you. Dave immediately starts making a mess so you quickly hand him a fork and tell him to eat it the right way. He seems to get it and eats as normally as he can.

She seems to be too busy with the dishes from the other children’s breakfast to get a good look at your eyes, but you know she will eventually. You’re not sure if you’re worried or not yet, but you do know that you don’t want to be here longer than you have to be.

Eventually she sits at the table with you and Dave, sipping her coffee. “Jesus Christ almighty, what in the world is up with your eyes?” she asks and yeah okay, maybe the crucifix above every doorway in the house wasn’t a sign that she was definitely that kind of God fearing Texan.

“It’s a genetic thing. People in our family tend to have red or orange eyes,” you tell her and give a little shrug.

“Well, put those sunglasses right back on because those are a sign that the devil is trying to invade my good home. Go on!”

You nod and put your own glasses on before helping Dave put on his. 

“B-Bro! I’m d-done!” Dave announces proudly and you look at his plate. 

“Look at that, you are! Full?”

He nods and you get up to start moving dishes into the kitchen so the mother you’ll be staying with doesn’t have to. 

“Is he scared or does his voice always do that?” she asks loudly as you start rinsing off the dishes.

“It always does. One of the doctors we saw a while back says he’ll grow out of it or he’ll just need speech therapy. Our parents couldn’t afford that though so we’re hoping he’ll grow out of it,” you say from the kitchen as you’re putting the plates in the dishwasher, talking like your parents aren’t dead like you know they are.

“Or it’s a sign that the devil is making himself a home inside this young boy.”

You decide not to respond as you go back over to the table and sitting down next to your little brother who’s trying to climb out of his chair. 

“Now I should probably tell y’all the rules of my home. Everyone living here is expected to do chores and we’ll figure out what chores you two will do with time. We go to church every Sunday and you’ll have youth group on Wednesday nights with Sarah, Delilah, Evan, and Sam. Dating is not allowed unless I approve them first and they go to our church. Bed time is at nine and no later and only approved hobbies will be allowed, is that clear? Alcohol and drugs are forbidden and so is speaking out of turn. There will be no cursing or talking back. Any questions?”

You think a moment and this is definitely the worse family you could have been saddled with. Your parents always preached that you should be mindful of other people and their religions and views and all that other bullshit, but this is just downright suffocating. 

“So I have to pre-approve everything with you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then I have to run any boys past you that I want to date?” you ask, testing out waters that you know will have sharks.

“No because you will not be dating any boys.”

Of course that’s her answer. You nod a little and look to Dave who is desperately trying to climb out of his booster seat. 

“Well, I’m going to go make sure Dave’s all settled in our room I suppose and stay out of your hair. Tell me if you need any help with the chores,” you say as you stand up and lift Dave out of the seat that he was having so much trouble with.

“Alright. You be down here in about twenty minutes with that demon of a child and I’ll put you both to work.”

“He’s three. He’s not going to be of much help.”

“He’s gotta learn about responsibility sometime soon and what did I say about talking back, mister?”

You nod a little and take Dave upstairs. You set him down on his bed and he immediately grabs ahold of Maple Hoof. 

“W-Where’s mommy and d-daddy?” he asks as he clutches the horse to his chest. “I-I d-don’t like this n-new mommy...”

You sigh a little. “Mommy and daddy are... Are on a trip. A very long trip. You’ll see them again, just not yet. I know this new mommy is mean and it’s totally cool that you don’t like her, but you have to be nice to her, okay?”

“She c-called me a d-demon!” he whines.

“I know. Not all people are nice, but you still have to be nice, okay?”

“O-Okay...”

You smile at him.

“We won’t be here long. I promise.”

“R-Really real p-promise?”

“Realiest real promise in the world, kiddo. Will you be nice? For me?”

“O-Okay. F-For B-Bro.”

“Thanks, Dave.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro gets Dave back and James Egbert moves him and his son to Texas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switch point of view a few times, but it's pretty obvious. I hope no one gets too confused.

==>

Your name is Dave Strider and it has been many days since you talked.

You are... Four or five now, you don’t remember really. But you do know that your brother left a while ago leaving you with the new mean mommy and you were a little mad at him for it, but you won’t tell him that when you see him next if you see him ever again. Sometimes the other kids like to tease you because you’re different and deserve it. That’s something the new mommy told them, you know it. 

You don’t like them, but you also are a little bit jealous of them because everyday they get to leave and go to school and not deal with Mean Mommy who teases you and says you’re ugly and says you’re stupid and says that you’re a piece of poop and says that you’re a demon. They don’t have to deal with her when she hits you for messing up your words and when she puts you in really long time outs because you don’t know the answer to the question and when she takes away your breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you forget to wear your sunglasses.

Today Mean Mommy is making you do the dishes and you are not tall enough and you know it. You drag a chair from the kitchen table to the sink so you can reach all the dishes and the soapy water and sponge. You start wiping the dishes and soon the bubbles become really awesome and you play with them. You grow a bubble beard and your hair goes bubbly white. You laugh and giggle for a while, playing in the sink and it’s a lot of fun!

Until Mean Mommy comes out and starts screaming at you that you made a big mess and were a good for nothing piece of crap. She shoves you off the chair and your head hits the ground with a thud and owie that hurts a lot.

Mean Mommy is yelling and screaming at you but you don’t know what she’s saying because your head hurts a lot and she’s loud and you don’t really want to hear her calling you all those bad words. She points to the stairs and you know that means she wants you to go to your room and you won’t get any dinner or any other food at all.

You go upstairs and first go to the bathroom where you use your towel to wipe off all of the bubbles Mean Mommy got so mad at you for. Your towel is the smallest because you’re the smallest kid, but it’s also really old and not that great of a towel so sometimes you use Evan’s because he doesn’t shower much and so maybe he won’t notice it’s a little bit damp after you use it.

Once you’re done cleaning up, you go back to the bedroom that has two beds even though you’re the only one that lives in here. The other bed used to be your brother’s before he left. Sometimes you think that maybe he doesn’t exist but then you just remember that he does so you’re okay.

Instead of crawling into your bed and playing with Maple Hoof a little bit, you climb onto your brother’s old bed and stand up so you can look out the window that’s above his bed. He kept some of his stuff there and when he disappeared, he left most of it. Some stuff he did take though. You look at a robot bunny that’s standing there and pat it on the head. You don’t think it has a name so you’re gonna name it! That’s a really good idea!

You rack your brain with many many thoughts to try and think of the perfect name for the bunny.

You eventually decide that Dirk is the best name for it so the bunny’s gonna be like your big brother that does exist.

==>

Your name is Dirk Strider and after two years, you’re going to get Dave back.

You have your apartment and it’s clean and there’s a room set up for Dave and everything. You’ve gotten yourself a decent job at the grocery store that’s a block away from the apartment building and you’ve been setting up a custom AI and robotics commissions website so that way you can make money when you’re not working behind the cash register at the grocery with a fake smile.

You’ve been jumping through social worker hoop after social worker hoop so that they will let you have Dave back and today, April 13th, 2001, you’re getting your little brother back from the foster family that you know has been treating him like shit since day one. Taking a deep breath, you went with the social worker that has been helping you out since you lived in the damn house to get Dave.

She knocked on the door and the woman you remember is there, a little confused. 

“Oh, hello. To what do I owe this God-given pleasure of seeing you again, Dirky-dear?” she asks and you’re one hundred percent sure that she never called you that when you were living here with her and the rest of her religiously fueled family that you often found tormenting Dave for his eyes and stutter. You remember her telling you and Dave that it was his fault for inviting the devil into his body.

“I’ve come to pick him up.”

She seems taken aback and relieved at the same time. You’ve been in contact with her and the social worker for the longest time now and you still can’t figure out how her hatred for Dave never let itself be known.

“Ah, well. He’s up in his room. Why don’t you head up there and help him get his stuff together?” she suggests and you nod, stepping around her and heading up the stairs. The social worker that came with you is still downstairs, talking to whatever the fuck her name is about an upcoming evaluation or something, you really don’t care. You just care about getting Dave.

The door is closed to the room you two shared for the month you were here and if what’s her face is to be believed, he’s in there. You knock lightly and hear small feet scrambling to get to the door. Soon the doorknob’s turning and the door swings in to reveal your little brother looking up at you with his bright red eyes. You smile at him a little and he grins, grabbing a hold of your hand and dragging you into the room.

“B-Bro! B-Bro! Y-You’re b-back! You’re b-back! D-Did you m-miss me? Did y-you?” he stammers and you kneel down so you’re at his level.

“Of course I did, kiddo. Guess what?” you ask him, your smile growing a little.

“W-What?”

“You’re going to come home with me. No more living here, nope.”

He grins at you, his eyes lighting up. “R-Really? N-No more M-Mean M-Mommy?”

“No more Mean Mommy ever again. Let’s get your stuff all put together.”

You and him run around the room together as he hands you all of his things, starting with the toys. He’s soon given you everything that he wants and is climbing onto what you used to be your bed. He’s making grabby hands at a mechanical bunny that you left in the window sill there, grinning. 

“B-Bro! B-Bro! I n-named h-him!” he says holding up the rabbit to you. You take it from his hands and look at the old thing. You never got a chance to turn him on while you were here. Maybe you could sell him online to someone and get some so you can get Dave some new clothes seeing as you had to go sign him up for school soon. 

“Oh yeah? What’d you name him?” Well, that was a good idea if Dave would be willing to part with him.

“D-Dirk! L-Like you!”

You stop imagining how you’d list him on an online marketplace and look at Dave, wide eyes hidden behind your shades. 

“Why’d you name him after me, kiddo?”

“B-Because I m-missed you!”

You give him a little smile. “I missed you too, Dave. I missed you a lot.”

“W-Why d-didn’t you c-come v-visit?” he asks and plops down on the bed so he’s staring at the ceiling.

“Because I was busy working on getting a job and a home. Busy working on getting you back.”

His unabashed grin is truly what makes getting him back feel like such an accomplishment. He’s your brother and now, he’s under your care and you will protect him better than anyone else could. 

He tells you that he’s grown out of all his clothes and that he’s a big boy now! He got all of Sam and Evan’s hand me downs that are definitely not quite him and you don’t even want to call it ironic because it physically pains you to see your little brother walking around in a shirt that has a basketball on it and the phrase “Dunked it!” across the front. No child is able to fucking dunk, you think. Especially when they’re fucking five.

You soon have him up on your shoulders as you carry the bag of his stuff from the room and his hands are definitely holding your hair tighter than you like. But you don’t tell him to loosen it up or even to stop because...

Well, because you kind of missed the feeling of his grubby little hands pulling your hair so hard it might come out in his hands.

You come across Mean Mommy talking to the social worker and when she sees Dave laughing, she glares. The social worker looks at you and smiles. “Ready to go home?”

Dave grins his head off and nods. You laugh softly. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

She smiles and leads you out to the car, your old foster mom not saying a word as you leave. This will be the last time either of you will see her for, hopefully, the rest of your lives.

It’s quite liberating to walk out of that front door with Dave on your shoulders and his bag under your arm. 

He’s free.

==>

Your name is James Egbert and this isn’t going well.

Your job moved and now the headquarters is no longer in the small town of Maple Valley, but instead in the heart of Houston, Texas. There is no possible way of working from home (you know because you’ve checked and double checked and triple checked) and quitting to find a new job is absolutely absurd.

So the only choice you have is moving to Texas.

Which is the reason for your little predicament here.

You have a son who is five years old and this is definitely a meltdown you wish you could avoid.

You told him that you were going to be moving to a new city with new people and a new school and friends all for him. That you were going to be packing everything up so you guys could move there and everything.

That’s when he started shouting and screaming and crying and oh gosh you’ve never felt so terrible for something that you couldn’t change now. You let him wear himself out and over the next couple of weeks, you slowly get the house packed up and have a couple of garage sales. Doing it slowly seems to ease John into it and so, when you’re on the plane flying to your new home, he doesn’t seem angry or upset like he did when you told him you guys were moving. He looks like he’s having fun, him in the window seat looking out at all the clouds and being silently amazed by it all.

Touching down is fun and John ends up laughing a little as the plane bumps to the ground. You notice other children freaking out, even some adults silently perform the Sign of the Cross, touching their foreheads, chests, and shoulders as their lips move.

You smile a little and think about how air travel is safer than driving.

John enjoys waiting for your luggage at baggage claim, excitedly pointing out your guys’ stuff so you can grab it. He holds your hand tightly as you two go and get in a cab that takes you to a hotel. You’re going to be moving in soon, but you don’t want John around all of the boxes and potentially dangerous situations as things slowly start getting moved into the house.

John jumps up on the bed as soon as you’re in your hotel room. You let him have his fun of jumping between the two beds as you unpack your toiletries and go into the bathroom to freshen up from the long plane ride.

You splash some water on your face and you are just so glad that your mother was kind enough to pay for most of the shipping and travelling expenses that it took to get you moved down here. It’s absolutely wonderful to not have to worry about if you really had enough money to keep everything and buy the new house and paint the walls and do everything like that. She truly was a god send. You thumb your jawline, feeling the slight prickle of facial hair under your finger tip, but it’s not visible and so you’ll shave in the morning.

You pat your face dry and go back to the beds to see John trying to turn on the tv with the remote, but for some reason having a really hard time. You chuckle softly and take the remote from his hands, setting it down on the nightstand as you take your five year old son into your arms. 

“We did it. We’re Texans now,” you tell him and he grins, wrapping his small arms around your neck.

“Yeah! Like cowboys! Can I get a cowboy hat? Like a really for real one?”

“Of course, John. We’ll find you one tomorrow. Right now though, it’s dinner time. What would you like? Anything you want, we can get it.”

“Pizza!” he cheers and you laugh. You’re not surprised in the slightest. You rarely order out, get fast food, or anything like that, but it’s the first night in a new city, the kitchen in this hotel room stinks, and you are not up for a nice restaurant where you can get a homemade type of meal with ingredients you approve of and other various things.

You nod and grab the hotel phone and the advertisements they leave in the room for nearby places (like Round Table) and soon you have a pepperoni pizza on the way.

You pay the guy and soon you and John are digging in, laughing and eating the food you never allow him to eat. And it’s fun. You are thoroughly enjoying yourself in this new state so far.

This is a good sign.

Soon after the pizza has been halfway decimated by your five year old’s appetite and the rest is tucked away in the mini fridge the room is equipped with, you manage to get your kid to take a bath in the A + would recommend to everybody ever jacuzzi tub in the hotel room. You do have to actually wash his hair for him and he does splash you and get you soaking wet, but it’s fun and you wouldn’t give up this experience for anything in the whole world.

Just like you wouldn’t give up the smile he gives you once you manage to drag his pruney little body out of the tub, wrap a towel around him, and use a hand towel to help dry his hair, his glasses starting to fall off his face.

You get him into his pajamas and tucked into bed quickly, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you lift his glasses off of his face and set them on the nightstand, right next to the remote that you set there earlier.

He’s fast asleep in moments and you chuckle lightly, getting ready for bed yourself before turning off the lights and pressing one last kiss to his hair, before slipping into your own bed.

“Good night, John. I love you,” you murmur into the quiet room.

It’s a new start in a new place and so far, it’s going rather well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post links to updates of all of my fanfictions on tumblr, ectobiologymajor, along with status updates. You can always go there to talk to me about them and what not, go ahead and ask questions, I don't mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of kindergarten for Dave and John.

===>

Your name is Dirk Strider and you never thought that getting Dave ready for school would prove to be such a fight.

You don’t blame him, to be honest, but that doesn’t make getting him out of bed and dressed any easier. He’s sleepy and grumpy, complaining about how everyone’s going to hate him and that he’ll have no friends and many similar things. You slowly get him ready and his complaints eventually subside. You feel bad for him, but you know that he needs to go to school. He needs this.

You get him to eat some breakfast and take him to school, carrying him on your shoulders as you walk about a mile to get there. You’re early and that’s what you had planned. Setting him down to let him go run off to play, you go and find his teacher so you can talk to her about Dave’s “special” situation.

You find her in her classroom, just finishing a conversation with a mother who seems to be a little bit hungover. Her daughter is beside her, reading a book she seems to have picked up from one of the desks. Both of them have the same bottle blonde hair and the daughter just seems annoyed with her mother’s insistence of talking about everything with the new teacher.

She eventually walks off and the teacher is free for you to explain the problems of your little brother’s problematic past.

“Hello, I’m Ms. Paint,” she says with a smile and her voice is definitely one you’re glad belongs to a kindergarten teacher. It’s soothing and even sets your nerves to rest.

“I’m Dirk Strider. My little brother, Dave, is in your class and I wanted to make sure that you knew some things about him…” You’d recently taken him to the cheapest doctors and psychiatrists you could find to figure out what those dreaded people did to him for the two years that they had their grubby hands on him. You came back with a diagnosis of selective mutism and promises of years of expensive therapy that you can’t afford to fix it.

“Oh, of course! Snack preferences? Is he a problem during nap time? Don’t worry, these are normal problems that won’t be an issue! I’ve been doing this for five years now.” She seems so certain that Dave’s problems will be easy to handle, but you’re almost positive that she’s never had a kid like Dave.

“Not really, though he is a pain during nap time, don’t get me wrong. He’s got some issues with… people,” you say and boy is that an understatement. “He’s had a stutter since he could talk and we always assumed he’d grow out of it, but… When our parents died, we went to a foster family and they weren’t the nicest of folks. So now the kid is a selective mute who only talks to people he deems safe and those are few and far between." 

She nods like she totally knows how to deal with this, like she's done it a million times before, and that helps you to relax a little. 

"I understand, Mr. Strider, don't worry. Dave will be safe with me," she says and you can't help but feel relieved. You don’t know if you quite believe her, but you do like her sincerity and find comfort in it. She’ll take care of Dave.

“There’s one other thing I want you to know,” you tell her. “He needs to wear his sunglasses all the time. His eyes are really light sensitive and well, the kids will probably give him a whole lot of sh-problems due to his eyes. They’re uh, bright red and he’s a bit weird about them. He’s been called a demon for the past couple of years because of it.”

Her eyes widen in slight surprise before she corrects herself and smiles. “Of course. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him then.”

You thank her and step out of the classroom, finding Dave drawing in chalk on the sidewalk outside the classroom. You kneel down beside him and look at what he’s doing. 

“Whatcha drawing, kiddo?”

“J-Jeff! I j-just made him up-p! D-Do you like h-him?”

“Like him? Nah, lil bro. I love him. He looks great.”

He laughs at that and looks at you instead of his masterpiece. You look at his glasses, pushing yours up a moment to make sure that even in the natural light, you can’t see the color of his eyes. Satisfied, you adjust the shades and play it off as that was what you were doing the whole time. Dave buys it and is trying to shove a piece of chalk into your hand. You shake your head and smile at him.

“Hey, lil man. I gotta get going. I have to leave you here, alright?”

His face is immediately one of panic. The last time you left him somewhere, it was for a long time and with people who beat him and told him he was worthless. You immediately try to figure out the best way to calm him down. 

“It’ll only be for a little while, I promise. Just a few hours and then I’ll be here to pick you up. It’ll be so quick, you won’t know I went anywhere and then we’ll go get some ice cream, how does that sound?”

He thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “Y-Yeah. O-Okay. I c-can do this! Like a r-real big k-kid!”

You nod and ruffle his hair. “And big kids are the masters of school. You’ll be so cool,” you tell him and he gets to his feet. You don’t move from squatting position because when Dave stands, he is about your height when you’re down low. He wraps his arms tightly around your neck and buries his face into your chest. You wrap your arms around him gently, holding him close. The two of you stay like that for a moment before you speak up. 

“Remember, if you need me, tell the teacher and she’ll call me right away. She’s a good lady, I promise you she won’t hurt you. You can talk to her, even if you need to leave the room to do it. You don’t have to talk to anyone else, but her and me, okay? Can you do that for me?”

He nods a little against your chest before picking his head up to talk to you. “W-What about m-my eyes? M-Mean M-Mommy always s-said that t-teachers w-would never l-let me w-where shades in c-class so I h-had to get used t-to b-being called a f-freak…” His hands grip your shirt tighter than before and it breaks your heart that he had to deal with such a mean woman for so long. You gently rub his back.

“I talked to your teacher already and she says it’s fine for you to wear the shades. No one’s gonna mess with you. Wanna know why? Because you’re not a freak, you’re a Strider and Striders are the coolest kids ever.”

He pulls away and smiles at you. “C-Can I g-go to c-class now? I w-wanna meet m-my t-teacher!”

You nod and silently follow him as he rushes into the room and pulls the teacher to the side. She wasn’t talking to anyone beforehand, but there were a couple of people in the room so he must just want to be safe.

You don’t know what he tells her, but she stays smiling and nods at him every once in awhile. He seems comfortable talking to her, which is exactly what you wanted. She eventually takes his hand and leads him to a desk where he kicks his legs back and forth for a moment. You smile. Maybe school wouldn’t be too bad for your little brother. Maybe he was tough enough for it. Maybe you could teach him to be tough if you had to.

===>

Your name is James Egbert and you can’t believe this is proving to be so hard.

You had finally moved into your new home and out of the hotel room. Things were starting to look put together. Walls were painted and rooms were furnished. The house was starting to look and feel like home. But… John thought otherwise.

He had been excited about it before you moved in. He likes shiny new things and that’s what the house is to him, but he keeps asking you when you were going to go home so he could hang out with the kids in your old neighborhood. So you guys could escape the heat. So he could climb the tree out front.

You’re constantly having to tell him that, no, you aren’t going home. This is home now.

You’re constantly breaking his heart.

You hate for him to be late to his first day of school but you can’t wake the kid up. He’s whining and complaining, rolling over and shouting about needing to sleep more. You never thought a five year old could be so loud when trying to convince you that he was exhausted and deserved much more sleep than he had gotten. You fight with him and eventually he’s dressed, fed, and ready to go to school. 

Once in the car, he puts up very little resistance and maybe he was telling the truth about being tired or maybe he had just worn himself out fighting you tooth and nail. You know he’s going to be late and it’s the first day of school and everything, but it’s a battle you’ve won. 

You get him to school and lead him to the classroom. The poor teacher seems a little surprised, but you apologize for your tardiness and she smiles at you and John. 

“Better late than never!” she chirps and leads John to a seat. You leave right after that, hoping to god that John doesn’t throw a fit.

Hoping to god was never your strong suit...

===>

Your name is Dave Strider and why won’t the boy with the glasses be quiet.

He came in late and like minutes later he was in tears. Ms. Paint has been trying to get him to calm down and relax, but it’s not working. She tells everyone to color or play with the stuffed animals until recess, which she promises will be soon. You obviously stay in your seat and draw. Stuffed animal play time involves talking and you don’t do that with other kids because they’re mean and just want to laugh at you and make you feel bad about your eyes and the way you talk. You talk just fine, diddly darn it! (That’s a swear word you hear Bro say sometimes. You feel rebellious even thinking it!)

When the bell rings and Ms. Paint ushers everyone out of the classroom, you watch the crying boy sit down underneath a tree, still sniffling. You don’t know why, but… You want to talk to him. You want to reassure him… But. But you can’t when everyone else is around and someone could hear you!

You figure it out. It’s the best plan ever. You grab the crying boy’s wrist and haul him up to his feet. He’s confused but it’s okay, you just need to get to somewhere quiet and ah! There! You drag him into the boy’s bathroom not too far away. You squat down, still holding his wrist tightly so he doesn’t run off while you check and make sure that no one is in there with you guys. You shut the door really quick behind him and take a deep breath. His face is still wet with tears, but it’ll be okay because you’ll talk to him.

He looks a little panicked when he realizes you’ve trapped him, but you’re quick to let him go once the door is closed. Your arms hang uselessly at your sides and you gather up the courage to say something (you haven’t talked to someone your own age in forever), but you’re pretty sure that he won’t laugh at you or make fun of you because he’s crying! And you just want to help him stop crying because crying is for sad people.

“E-Everything w-will b-be o-okay.” You stutter on every word because you’re so nervous! Gosh how could you have messed up four little words. Just four!

But the crying boy in front of you doesn’t seem too upset by the stuttering. In fact, he seems like he’s already in a better mood! That’s good! He takes a second before he speaks up too. (Maybe he has a stutter too! But no… You don’t think so. He was talking to the teacher just fine so maybe he’s just trying not to cry.)

“Promise?” he eventually whispers and wipes at his eyes.

You smile at him a little and hold up your pinky finger. “Promise,” you manage to say without your voice trembling and you have never been happier ever before in your life. Okay maybe that’s not true, but you are very proud of yourself!

He smiles a little and hooks his pinky finger around yours, laughing a little. “Thanks.”

You grin at him and maybe you two will be best friends. Pft. That’s stupid.

You’re already best friends and if anyone says otherwise then they are wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, thank you everyone for being patient with me. My updates are slower than I'd like, but I'm getting back into the habit of writing a lot and everything. It seems like I change my tumblr everytime I post a new update, but it is theheirjohnegbert now and should stay that for a while! 
> 
> I tend to post updates on there and sometimes I need betas so if you'd be willing to help me out, send me a message on there offering your fic reading expertise!
> 
> Anyway, thank you all and I hope you all enjoyed this update!


End file.
